Doctor Who_ Bad Therapy - Matthew Jones [63]
‘I was working with Carl Rogers in Wisconsin. Moriah poached me, offering a great salary and my own research team. It was only when I arrived in England that I learnt the full extent of his work.’
‘Oh yes?’ The suspicion in the Doctor’s voice was evident.
Julia shook her head impatiently. ‘No, nothing like that. Quite the reverse.
He had only just started on his work then, but what he’d developed was astonishing.’
The Doctor leant forward, clearly interested. ‘What? What had he developed?’
Caught up in her own enthusiasm, Julia stood up and nodded at the door.
‘Come on, I’ll show you.’
∗ ∗ ∗
106
Chris was wide awake in a second, instinctively leaping into action. He pushed himself off the bench, knocking Patsy on to the floor as he did so, causing her to swear loudly. He made a clumsy leap at the blank-faced creature who stood straddling the sleepers.
Chris caught the side of the bloody spear as it came down for the second time, knocking it out of the creature’s hand. He had a second to act before it was going to pummel him to death with those impossibly powerful fists.
Keeping low, Chris rammed his shoulder into its stomach and succeeded in knocking it over backwards on to the far bench in the carriage. A cry escaped from it. Primal and furious, like a half-made child. It made Chris shudder.
He stole a glance at the other occupants of the carriage. The oldest sleeper –
the woman – was writhing on the floor, her back arching and her arms flailing wildly around her. Blood poured from the spear wounds on either side of her throat. She appeared to be only vaguely conscious. Her eyes were closed. She was going to die and there was nothing Chris could do to save her. Now he needed a plan to keep the rest of them alive.
He was surprised to see that Patsy had already gathered the young boy up in her arms and was heading for the door. Her face was stern; she looked frightened but determined. Like an Adjudicator.
‘Quick,’ she snapped, ‘stay behind me and for Goddess’ sake keep it away from the child.’
The faceless creature was already clambering to its feet. Chris slammed the carriage door behind them and headed off after Patsy and the boy. Running along the tight corridors of the train felt like running through a fun house, the movement of the train kept undermining his attempts to stay firmly balanced.
That would be a serious problem if it came to hand-to-hand combat.
The train was almost deserted. Just a few people scattered throughout its winding length. Chris hoped that they had the good sense to keep out of the creature’s way or else things were going to get very messy. He called to them, telling them to close the blinds that looked on to the long corridor, and to keep quiet.
Patsy was opening the door to the last carriage when they heard some passengers start screaming behind them. ‘Guess who,’ she said, grimacing.
‘Are we just running blindly or do you have a plan?’
‘You’re the policeman. Don’t you have one?’
Chris shook his head. ‘No. I mean apart from just generally staying alive.’
‘Fine. We’ll use my plan then.’
Summer sunlight streamed into the ward from the large Victorian windows through which the ornate gardens of the Institute could be glimpsed. The room resounded with laughter and the sound of children playing, happily and 107
unselfconsciously. The ward was full of couples. Mothers and sons, lovers, brothers and sisters – everywhere the Doctor looked people were paired off.
No one in the room was alone.
Two young girls ran up to him, all pigtails and giggles. He raised his hat, but they ignored him, haring off suddenly in the direction of a playhouse.
‘You don’t have to be polite to them, Doctor,’ Julia Mannheim said, standing next to him. ‘They’re not real.’
The Doctor opened his mouth to reply but changed his mind. He meekly followed Julia over to a bed at the far side of the room.
The occupant was a boy of no more than twelve, dark-haired and fast asleep. His elfin face looked troubled even in sleep; his brow was